When Bags of Flour Can Be Used as Weapons
by Miss Mary Sue
Summary: Before the rock jam’s afterparty, Shane helps out in the kitchen, which makes Mitchie suspicious of his intentions. Oneshot, Shane/Mitchie.


I know. I can't believe I'm writing Camp Rock either. But in my defense, writing any kind of fanfiction is more appealing than working on my English project!!

_Disclaimer: Camp Rock belongs to Disney._

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**WHEN BAGS OF FLOUR CAN BE USED AS WEAPONS**

She wasn't sure if it was because she had inhaled too much flour or because she was still dazed from the big rock jam, but the moment Shane Gray marched into the kitchen and put on an apron and a lopsided chef hat, Mitchie figured something must be wrong.

"Um…" the girl let the spoon slide over the edges of the bowl and approached the pop star cautiously, "you know, if you really have that much of a problem with the food here, I think it'd be better if you just tell me instead of making it yourself."

Shane didn't look at her when he spoke, too fixated on tying the darned apron into a messy ball of ribbon strips on the back. "It's not that," he grumbled. "Uncle Brown's making me cook for the rock jam's afterparty tomorrow as punishment. Something about my attitude and conceitedness or something."

Mitchie tried to hide her smile by turning back to her bowl. She muttered something along the lines of knowing what Uncle Brown meant all too well, but the boy behind the counter was too busy ranting on to himself to hear her.

"I mean, it doesn't even make any sense! I'm not gonna be here on the last day since we already have to leave to start Connect 3's world tour – which will _rock_, by the way, so flip on the TV channel some time during the school year."

His words made the cook's daughter stop her spoon and stare down at the cookie dough in her hands.

… _Shane isn't going to be here?_

She knew they would all have to leave eventually once the summer ended, but to depart even before Camp Rock finished was another thing entirely. Mitchie felt a part inside of her sink in disappointment as she watched the butter around the bowl start dripping down as well.

But before she could really say anything, she turned and met face-to-face with the pop star, who had walked over to her side in closer proximity.

He didn't flinch or move back at her turn; he was just casually leaned over the table with his arm, gazing down at the only girl who ever stood up against him.

"So… what do you want me to do?"

Mitchie couldn't utter any noises, too perplexed by the sudden air he held. He didn't sound as arrogant as before when he was rambling on; this time, his pitch was lower, his voice was softer.

She knew that tone. It was the one Shane would reveal whenever he forgot about his image and fame and materialistic things.

But, no, she was probably reading into him too much. They were only cooking anyway, and only because he was being disciplined by Uncle Brown. There was no special reason he was here in the first place.

"Well, you could start by moving your arm away from the counter and washing it," Mitchie regained her voice back and laughed as she watched the boy pull away his hand and wrinkle his nose at the grease dripping from his arm. "And then afterwards you can help me stir and decorate the cookies after we're done baking them."

"Ugh. Fine." He treaded over to the sink and turned on the cold water, as she went back to her own work with a smile that had mysteriously crept up on her face.

"Oh yeah, and one more question," Shane rolled his head towards the girl, and asked with a smirk, "When's the part where we chuck flour onto our faces?"

She glared at him.

_Jerk._

He'll never let her live that moment down, will he? Yeah, she had definitely overanalyzed Shane, alright. He was still the same egotistical superstar he was the first time he sauntered into the kitchen.

Which was exactly why she took hold of a batch of flour, said "How about _now!_", and threw the white powder into the celebrity's face.

---

With careful fingers, Shane lifted the steel tool out of the dough and the last star on the tray had been formed. He grinned, twirling the star-shaped cookie cutter around his finger and looking over towards Mitchie for praise.

"What do you think? Pretty good, huh?"

Never mind the fact that she was the one who _made _the dough in the first place and supplied the cutters. Still, they did look good. Assortments of stars, moons, and hearts were lined up on the cookie sheet, waiting to be baked and decorated.

"Not bad for cookie cutter pop star stuff." Mitchie held the tray and placed them in the oven. She vigilantly turned the dial to the correct temperature, but was still wary enough of Shane to hear him talk.

"Uh, Mitchie?"

"Yeah?" 350 degrees. That should be good enough.

"We're not gonna have to clean all _this_ up, are we?"

She turned around to finally take sight of what she had been ignoring all this time while making the cookies: flour spilled all over the floors, cooking appliances that had been disheveled from their places, and in the middle of it all, a pop star, caked with powder and sugar.

He stood there, his white shirt stained with chocolate, his hair all mucked up with grease, his apron thrown in who knows where now in the midst of the food fight, and she noticed his face still had some remaining flour from before.

Mitchie sighed. Not like she was the cleanest person in the world, either. "It's all your fault, you know," she lightly scolded. "If you had just behaved and didn't act so immature, this wouldn't have happened."

She nodded her head down and a few colorful sprinkles that Shane had oh-so-modestly 'beautified' her hair with rained off, making the boy turn the other away and cover his mouth to stifle his snickers.

She was actually surprised that he didn't throw any tantrum over his dirty state though; wouldn't he usually throw a hissy fit if he wasn't prim and proper?

After regaining his composure, he pointed out, "Immature? You're the one who threw flour at my face!"

"You tempted me to!" she retorted. "Now we're gonna be stuck in this kitchen even longer now."

The girl walked back to the counters to search for any clean rags. Shane trailed a few steps after her.

"Hey, that's not necessarily a bad thing," he said, as she started opening the drawers. "After all, now you'll be able to spend more time with The Great Shane Gray. All your dreams have come true."

"Oh, _joy_," Mitchie remarked dryly. She fished out a torn cloth usable enough to clean and tossed one to her partner, who had laughed at her deadpan response.

Another surprise was that Shane didn't complain over cleaning up the kitchen. Instead of grumbling and muttering, he caught the cloth in his hands and already started wiping the counters after flashing a smile at the girl.

Anyways, contrary to what he said earlier, her dreams had already come true at Camp Rock.

But she supposed he did help her a bit along the way… like she'd ever tell him _that_, though. Inflating his ego was not the greatest idea.

Mitchie would also never tell him that today, what was supposed to be daily kitchen duty turned out to be the most fun she ever had, and secretly she didn't mind spending their last moments before he would leave tomorrow.

Nah, he'd get too creeped out if she said all this sappy stuff, she thought.

And besides, his head was already big enough.

---

Not a single person strolled by through the dance room without a cookie in their mouth.

Actually, Mitchie was beginning to worry over whether she and Shane had baked enough for everyone. Wherever she walked, people would smile and compliment on the snacks, and those whose mouths were too full would give her a thumbs up. She nodded and thanked them briefly as she continued making her way through the large ensemble of people, until someone grabbed her arm.

"Hey! Mitchie! All this food here is great!" Caitlyn popped up in front of her and waved, but stopped when she noticed her friend's frowning face. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, just…" Mitchie scanned the crowd of teenagers, and then gave up when she still couldn't find any familiar black-haired boy. "Do you know where Shane—I mean, Connect 3 is? I've been looking for them all day."

"Oh yeah, they're supposed to leave for their world tour today, right?" She pursed her lips in thought. "I think they're outside. They're probably leaving right now—Mitchie?!"

Caitlyn gawked at the cook's daughter, who started running off midway of her response. Mitchie waved a wobbly hand as she sprinted, shouting, "Thanks, Caitlyn! I gotta go!!"

She heaved a sigh and crossed her arms, but gave a tolerant smile at the singer anyway as she watched her disappear behind the trees.

Mitchie darted past the docks where she had first heard him sing, past the cabin where he had first _her _sing, past the lake where they had canoed together, and past the stage at the rock jam where they sang their duet together, with only one goal in mind: _I have to see him._

_I have to see him before he leaves._

The girl almost lost her footing at an open field when she spotted two boys and a large helicopter flying towards them. The rotor blades swept the dirt and the wind brushed through the boys' curled hairs.

Jason was the first to notice her. He turned around as she stumbled towards them.

"Heeey, Mitchie! What're you doing here?" the eccentric one's eyes widened. "Oooh, wanna hop on the helicopter with us?!"

"She can't do that, she has to go back to school after this and _learn_. Something you should be doing…" Nate shook his head as the other band member pouted, and then faced the girl. "Came to say goodbye?"

Mitchie panted between breaths. "Yeah…" She glanced back and forth for the missing person in their band. "Where's Shane?"

"Our helicopters can only hold two people, and Shane already left with Uncle Brown."

"Oh…" The brunette's face fell. "I guess that makes sense. He's been pretty hard on Shane, just like yesterday."

The two pop stars exchanged confused looks before turning back to Mitchie. "What're you talking about? He was as cool as a cucumber yesterday."

"Yeah, Shane was a good boy, for once!" Jason added. "Uncle Brown didn't have to do anything. In fact, he _let _Shane wander off on his own. Apparently the guy said he wanted to spend his last time with someone before he left."

_With someone…?_

So Shane wasn't being punished to kitchen duty after all. It was an excuse he made up, probably because he was too proud to admit it. But why on earth would he want to waste his time doing trivial work and cleaning up? And of all people, why would he want to spend his last day throwing food and bickering with _her_?

"_Hey, that's not necessarily a bad thing. After all, now you'll be able to spend more time with The Great Shane Gray."_

All thoughts vanished when Mitchie felt a tap on her shoulder. Nate pointed up at the sky and shouted among the loud gust of wind, "Look, his helicoptor's going to pass by us!"

Her head snapped up at the large air craft that was beginning to lift itself farther away. Relief surged through her when she saw Shane's face in the window.

The boys beside her began shouting his name, and eventually he peered down and saw them. He waved at the two until he caught glimpse of a particular girl with brown hair in the far right corner.

Mitchie stared up at him, with eyes that pleaded why, why, why did you do all of those things?

Shane smiled.

"_Hey, that's not necessarily a bad thing. After all, now we'll be able to spend more time together."_

And then the helicopter disappeared in the distance.

Nate kicked some pebbles off the ground before turning to the other remaining helicopter waiting for them. "Well, time to get going. We have to get a bunch of things done this year so we'll be free for Camp Rock next summer. Or at least, that's what Shane insisted."

Mitchie spun around to the two boys. "Really?! You'll be here next summer?"

He smiled. "Yeah. See you then."

She watched Nate and Jason step into their helicopter and wave goodbye before closing the door. The blades rotated and soon they were off the ground and flying into the sky. Mitchie turned to walk back to the afterparty, with a wide smile across her face.

That's right. Everyone else, and Shane, would always be there next year. She didn't have to worry about never seeing them again.

Now that she thought about it, she felt sort of silly for feeling so distressed when she found out Shane would be leaving.

Suddenly, a large gust of wind swept across the open field again, and Mitchie twisted herself around to gawk at the huge helicopter that was almost crashing towards her. She yelped and ran out of the way until it landed with a complete stop.

The door barged open and Jason jumped out. He spun his head around until he caught sight of Mitchie, and then charged up to her. Nate appeared and followed after him with wearier footsteps.

The alarmed boy went up close to Mitchie with widened eyes of unspeakable horror. "I—I can't believe I forgot to do this!" he half-whispered.

"Oh geez," Nate muttered, but she was too frightened of the possible terrible news she would receive from him.

"Wh—What?" the girl managed to ask.

She found herself in a tight squeeze as an arm wrapped around her neck. She blinked confusedly, and to her right Mitchie spotted Nate against Jason's other shoulder, rolling his eyes but accepting defeat anyway.

_"GROUP HUG!"_

**End.**

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**Author's Note: **This fanfic isn't that bad for cookie cutter author stuff, right? It's my first Camp Rock fanfic and I actually had to look things up over the internet, heck, even their NAMES to check for accuracy (I'm not that well in-tune with this movie, if you can't tell), so a review, critique, flame etc. would be nice. And Jason would be happy and hug you!


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